


A Different Kind of Miracle

by CelestialArcadia



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Comedy, Competition, Dialogue Heavy, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Good Omens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialArcadia/pseuds/CelestialArcadia
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley each think that the other couldn't go a week without miracles. Each is determined to prove the other wrong. To make sure that neither of them sneaks in a miracle while the other's away, they agree to stay together for the duration of the bet.It doesn't end the way either of them hoped, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	A Different Kind of Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> So this was supposed to be finished...um, a while ago. It's based on a prompt I enjoyed from this year's Chocolate Box exchange: "The two of them make a bet they can go for a week without using their powers to deal with life. Hijinks ensue." (Thanks for the prompt! This has been really fun to write. Even if it has taken an unreasonably long time for me to post it.)
> 
> I'm not sure yet how long this will be. I have most of the story beats planned out, but not all of the specifics. I can tell you ahead of time that the rating isn't going to change, nor is the general atmosphere going to end up much different from this first chapter. (It might get a bit fluffy near the end, but I'm chronically unable to not insert jokes into everything I write.)
> 
> Surprisingly—or maybe not—even though this is my tenth published Good Omens fic, this is the first one where Aziraphale and Crowley _aren't_ already in a romantic relationship when the story starts. Don't worry, they'll get there! Eventually!

It was a normal day, which was very unusual for Aziraphale and Crowley. Nothing about them or their lives could be considered normal in any conventional or unconventional sense, but they were now living without the millennia-old specter of the apocalypse looming over their heads, which was as close as they could get.

The angel and the demon sat at a table just outside a quaint Belgian bistro in London where they shared a moderately-sized pile of appelflappen. They talked about many things: big things and little things, important things and petty things. They enjoyed each other’s company, light and free, though with the occasional tease. (Or more than occasional, as the case may be.)

“I daresay that I’m the only one of us who could actually make a living without miracles. No offense, my dear,” Aziraphale said, polishing off the last of Crowley’s pastries.

“You’re joking,” Crowley replied. “Last week I watched you use a miracle to grab a mug of cocoa that was no more than two feet away from you.”

“I’m completely serious. I have a job, Crowley! I make a productive living!”

“You don’t have a _job_ , you have a private book collection with a decorative cash register in the front. When was the last time you actually sold anything?”

Aziraphale briefly considered the question—it had been at least four months, though he couldn’t remember exactly—before returning to his bluster. “That’s irrelevant! My point is, if, Someone forbid, our…ex-supervisors…were to cut us off, I would be able to transition rather well to human life.” (It took all of Crowley’s restraint to not laugh out loud at this statement.) “But what about you? What do you _do_ all day?”

“I…” Crowley suddenly forgot everything he’d done in the past week that didn’t involve Aziraphale, as well as most of the things that did. “I…do…plenty of things. Interesting things, even.” Crowley, as a rule, did not pray (see: demon), but if he did, he certainly would have been praying that Aziraphale wouldn’t ask him about any specific interesting things.

“You cause minor mischief to people. Hardly _useful_.”

Crowley shrugged. “Plenty of jobs out there that aren’t useful at all. I could probably be a decent telemarketer.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what a telemarketer was, so he couldn’t say whether or not Crowley would be a good one, though it certainly sounded unpleasant. “Even so, I wor— _wonder_ how you’d get on without miracles to support your…lifestyle, as it were.”

(Neither being was willing to point out that, since they had cut ties with their employers, Crowley’s “lifestyle” now largely consisted of him taking Aziraphale out for meals.)

Crowley rolled his eyes in response—Aziraphale couldn’t see it behind the sunglasses, but in their six thousand-year association with each other, he’d developed a sort of sixth sense to tell when Crowley was silently mocking him.

“You going to put your money where your mouth is, angel?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a confused stare.

“Figuratively.”

The stare continued.

Crowley sighed, picking an appelflap off the center plate. “It’s one thing for us to brag about how we could get on without miracles,” he said, gesturing with it for emphasis. “It’s another to _prove_ it.”

“Are you suggesting we make this a wager, dear boy?” Aziraphale’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the afternoon light.

“Perhaps. Unless you think you couldn’t handle it…”

“Oh _no_ , Crowley. The other way around, I think. I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into.” Crowley recognized Aziraphale’s grin as the same expression he got when he came up with a really good idea for driving away customers.

Crowley smirked. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Aziraphale held out his hand across the table. Crowley took it, and they shook, cementing their new arrangement.


End file.
